


To All Those Who Loved Him

by ProseAndPeonies



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Endgame, I cried writing this, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Multi, Post Avengers Endgame, Suicidal Thoughts, Unrequited Love, seriously so much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26571970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProseAndPeonies/pseuds/ProseAndPeonies
Summary: Tony Stark has been gone for six months. Steve Rogers hasn’t been okay since. And he misses him so damn much. At Tony’s grave, he meets someone he hasn’t seen in quite some time.
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, unrequited Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 5
Kudos: 58





	To All Those Who Loved Him

**Author's Note:**

> Based heavily on the song Amen by Amber Run. Take care of yourselves. Also, not edited by anyone but myself, so all mistakes are mine. (AN: Slight AU where Morgan doesn’t exist because that made me too sad to think about.)

Wind stirred his hair as Steve Rogers stared down at the marble headstone before him. It was cold, getting steadily colder as October turned into November, the sun setting sooner and leaves falling quicker. His fingers ached with the chill, even through the fabric of his gloves. 

_I don’t understand those damn gloves Cap, they hardly do anything with how bad it’s blowing out there._

The memory made him smile, softly and quietly. 

_Not all of us were born hot blooded_ , he’d said in response, years and lifetimes ago. 

Steve looked away from the grave for a second and down towards his shoes. The grass was still green, though. And it was an uncharacteristically sunny day, for the end of October, which bugged Steve to no end. The weather didn’t even have the dignity to be gloomy as he stood there in the empty cemetery, surrounded by people long since gone. The polished marble gleamed before him, his reflection staring back at him. He didn’t recognize himself, couldn’t come to terms with who stood before him. He felt the absence at his side like a phantom limb.

_No trust, liar._

Maybe not a phantom limb, then. Because they hadn’t been like that in… god knows how long it had been since Steve’d had the right to miss him like that. Maybe he never had it. 

“I didn’t lie, Tony,” Steve said, softly. “I didn’t lie when I said I’d miss you.”

Wilted flowers sat dejectedly besides the ones that he had brought— purple hyacinths, which he hadn’t bought for any particular reason. They looked sturdy enough to last a little while out here though, something that would remain. This was a private cemetery, but there were always flowers at the grave. From him, when he could make it, which was very often, if he was being truthful. He didn’t do so much Avenging anymore, he had plenty of time, it was more that he had to ready himself to come here and be reminded of how he had failed to do just about anything right. 

“I missed you then, and I miss you now. And I’m real sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me.”

Steve’s throat constricted painfully and he looked away from the grave again, from Tony. Out across the tidy, peaceful graveyard, and thought about how much Tony would’ve teased him for being there.

_When I’m gone, I’m gone, Steve. I’m not here anymore, you know I don’t believe in any of that afterlife stuff._

He had tried to cling to his faith after Project Rebirth, but then he’d seen the camps in Germany and fought with and beside aliens from outer space and it had shocked that sense of belief that he had clung to. He stopped attending mass and taking communion, stopped praying and wearing his St. Christopher. Then half the population of the universe had disappeared, wiped out of existence so quickly no one knew what had happened. And he suddenly found himself praying, because he didn’t know who else to turn to.

_God, are you there, it’s me, Steve Rogers. I made a mistake and I can’t fix it._

Steve squeezed his eyes shut so tightly that they ached, like his hands ached, like his chest ached, but it didn’t stop the tears even a little.

“I miss you so fuckin’ much that I can’t breathe, Tony. And damn it, I never told you that. I see you… everywhere. I see you at night, when it’s dark out and I’m alone in the kitchen and I swear I see you rooting through the fridge. I see you on the subway and I see you on the television and I see you in my dreams, and I can’t help it—“

Steve choked as a sob slammed into him, wrenching out his throat and into the air. Tears clouded his vision but he kept going because he needed to tell Tony this, because he hadn’t before and he’ll never really get to say it to his face. 

“I loved you, Tony, so much. And I see you everywhere I go, and- and I see you and I can’t help wondering if it’d be easier to just be… gone.”

There. He’d said what had been on his mind since Tony had slid that fucking gauntlet onto his hand and snapped. Since he’d carried Tony’s lifeless, cold body off a battlefield, the first time that he’d really touched him in years. 

“Because Tony, if I was gone, at least I’d be with you.”

“You know he didn’t believe in that kind of stuff, right?”

Steve startled at the voice in the quiet and turned around, raising his arms and preparing for a fight.

But there wasn’t a threat, just a lone, tall woman who looked like she hadn’t had a decent night's rest in much too long. 

“Miss Potts, I—“

She waved a pale hand and stepped around him, and Steve realized that she, too, had brought a bouquet. Sunflowers, bright and happy.

“You don’t need to explain, Captain, I understand,” she said as she placed the new bouquet at the center of the headstone, her quick, efficient hands moving away the last bundle of wilted flowers. Those must have been hers, then. 

She stepped back from the grave and gave a small, sad smile. One that looked entirely too private for his eyes.

“The hyacinths are beautiful, but he liked sunflowers better. They were his favorite, really.”

Steve found himself at a loss for words, because he hadn’t spoken to Pepper Potts since Tony’s memorial at the lake. He had wanted to, really, but every time he found himself failing to even dial her number. 

Steve ruminated on what to say in response, and then decided on, 

“I never knew that.”

Pepper bobbed her head in acknowledgement, her strawberry blonde hair streaked with gray was piled in an elegant bun atop her head. Her face was flushed from the cold, but she was wrapped up in a thick pea-coat. 

“Are you going to hurt yourself, Steve?”

Steve started at the words, then remembered how she had found him: crying over her dead lover's grave, asking to be with him in death. He winced.

“I— I wouldn’t, I could never, I was just… Having a moment.”

Pepper nodded again, weighing his words. 

“I think I’ve been having one of those for about six months,” she said, her voice thick. “But, promise me you’ll talk to someone if you ever start thinking like that, I don’t think I can lose another Avenger.”

Steve turned from her and down at Tony’s grave. Tony remained quiet, which was largely unhelpful. 

“I’m not thinking that, not really.” He said softly. 

And it was true. Because he would never, it was just that sometimes he was so, so tired. And so, so sad.

“Good.” She murmured. 

Silence hung heavily between them, and Steve made to turn away. 

“Then, I’ll just be going, I don’t—“

“No, don’t—“

Pepper sighed angrily and stomped one boot into the grass, her frustration tangible. 

“Don’t go, Steve, stay here and remember him with me, please.”

Steve could only mumble an affirmative.

They stood in utter silence for minutes, hours maybe, before Steve finally found it unbearable.

“How do I stop?” He asked, his eyes searching her face. “How do I stop missing him?”

Pepper shook her head and ran a hand through her hair, her eyes shining with unshed tears. Suddenly, Steve realized he hadn’t ever really known Pepper. Sure, he’d been around her because of Tony, but he’d never been friendly. Never seen her like this. 

“That’s a good fucking question, isn’t it? Because god knows that I’ve been asking it every day he’s been gone, Captain,” Pepper swiped angrily at her eyes, “I miss him more every day, and I don’t think it’s ever going to get better.”

Steve considered that for a moment, the idea that this grief that permeated every waking (and sleeping) thought that he had would stay with him like a stain, and felt his stomach roil. 

_Can’t save em all._

“But maybe,” Pepper said, voice almost lost to the wind, “Maybe we just learn to deal with it, you know? We learn to live with this ache, maybe we get better at bearing the weight of a world without him.”

Steve felt the tears gather in his eyes and clamped a hand over them, squeezing tight. Why, why couldn’t Tony have survived. Why couldn’t it have been him who had grabbed that damned gauntlet. Why wasn’t it him beneath the soil.

“I’m so sorry, Pepper, you have to know that.”

Steve felt the words slip out of his mouth before he could do anything about it. 

He finally dropped his hand away from his burning eyes, not caring if she saw. 

“I don’t blame you, Captain.”

Steve gave her a Look.

Pepper laughed, so softly it almost didn’t count and shook her head again. 

“Yeah, well, maybe I did at first,” she admitted. “Maybe I was angry with you, but not now. Tony, he was a better man than most people knew, and he forgave you, Steve. He forgave you, and because of that, I forgive you.”

Steve started crying again, and it was too much. It was all too much. She forgave him, and it wasn’t just for failing Tony in the end, he knew that. She forgave him for Siberia, for abandoning the man she loved the most when he needed it. Pepper forgave him for things he’d never be able to forgive himself for, and for some god forsaken reason it hurt even worse.

Steve didn’t stop himself as he sank to the ground, the damp earth biting at his skin through his trousers.

Pepper stared down at him for a moment, something like pity and intense sadness mingling in her eyes. Then she moved to join him on the ground.

They sat together for a while, her staring at the headstone, and the flowers. Him, trying to stop the tears for someone who would never come back. 

“Did you love him, Steve?”

Oh, god, did he. He still did, and Steve didn’t think he’d ever stop. 

“I did, Pepper, but I never acted on it,” he said, stoutly not meeting her eye.

Pepper just laughed. Like a full-bellied laugh, which stopped Steve’s tears for a second because he was so puzzled.

“Thanks for that,” he mumbled, wiping at his face. He had never told anyone that before, and the second he did he was laughed at. 

Pepper was still chuckling, even as fresh tears rolled down her face. 

“No! No, I’m not laughing at you, it’s just—“ She giggled for a second. “It’s just that I had told him for years that you two had too much sexual tension.”

Steve was taken aback by that, and his face must have shown it. 

“Oh, please, Steve, don’t act like that’s not true. You can be in love with someone and still want to fuck their brains out. God knows I was.”

The flush on his cheeks suddenly had nothing to do with the cold.

Pepper laughed again, her eyes tilting towards the sky.

“I feel like wherever Tony is, he’s kicking himself right now.” She said, her eyes still gazing upwards.

Steve felt his face soften, “Why do you say that.”

Pepper gave him a mischievous look and suddenly Steve understood why Tony had fought tooth and nail to keep her by his side through it all.

“Because he missed his chance on _two_ gorgeous blonds.”

Steve felt something akin to a genuine smile appear on his face, and laughed. 

“Maybe so.”

Again, silence followed, but it was easier, more comfortable. Steve felt something in his coat pocket shift, and remembered what he carried with him.

Slowly, he withdrew the little flask of non-alcoholic cider. Because Tony had stopped drinking. 

He uncapped it and took a swig, then handed it to Pepper.

“To Tony Stark.”

She regarded it with curiosity and then took a whiff of it. She smiled a little, when she realized what it was, and tipped her head in appreciation, then took a deep pull from the flask. As she swallowed, she tipped at little of it over the headstone. 

“To Tony Stark, and to all the people who loved him.”


End file.
